It seems good luck is often with the man who doesn’t include it in his plans. The equipment in my worm hole pod indicated that the wooded glen I’d chosen to come to Earth in was unoccupied. I found myself materializing directly before a woman sitting cross legged and just emerging from another dimension as well, that of her meditative state.
“Far out.” Her greeting was unfamiliar to me, but her smile was in a language that I understood clearly. I returned the smile aspect of her greeting.
"Parlez-vous français?" My plan was to arrive in a region near the ancient city of Quebec so that I’d not run into difficulties with language. It’s been necessary to learn so many not based on Terran systems over the course of my career that quite a few of those of my own world are as foreign to me as Zardozian would be to these people.
“Pas très bien. Do you speak English?” She was still smiling.
“Yes, I do. My name is Pierre LeCard. What did you mean by “far out”?” I found myself grinning, too; her smile was infectious.
“It’s just an expression of wonder. I take it you’re not from around here.” She winked at me with that one, still smiling. Somehow I knew I’d found an ally, she seemed to have an empathic trust of me.
“It’s rather a long story.”
I’d shown up on 21st Century Earth with the clothes on my back and reliance on nothing but my long acquired ability to get by in incredibly diverse environments. My good fortune in finding Gracie was incredible; that or at least incredibly synchronistic. The interactive effects of synchronicity and karma have yet to be worked out in my old story cosmos.
It’s kind of ironic, really, how quickly I’ve come to think of my life in the future as my old story. I shared the relevant portions of it with Gracie over lunch outside the lovely little cabin she’s welcomed me into.
Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to share all of our stories over time.
“Yes, we’ve come to acknowledge the importance of paying attention to synchronicity. The archeological record indicated that this was an era when belief systems were beginning to realign with Earth as Ecosystem Gaia, and to look at Gaia in the cosmos. Surely the fact that I mistakenly materialized in front one of the 7.4 billion humans on the planet and it was one of the few who was already on board with the Transition Movement must be synchronistic. Our life stories must converge significantly in the Great Entanglement.”
We were sharing a bottle of a heady Zinfandel, quite good, really. I’d store a bottle of it in one of the terra capsules I’ll be burying while I’m alive. It will thrill someone in the future, I’m sure. Gracie has already assured me that despite the impending economic collapse, many people have formed community networks that keep them fed and housed.
Climate change is already shifting the range at which good grapes can be grown. It seems I have a skill I can contribute to the community.
The wonder of having found myself in a place where I can spend the rest of my life doing the alternative I’d rejected to pursue my career in space exploration is unspeakably sublime and beautiful. Gracie assures me that I can work in the gardens and craft fine wines here and still have plenty of time to explore the culture and write my findings. She’s even got equipment I can use to do so.
The picnic we’d prepared all came from within the community, cheese and fresh sourdough bread, a few apples and a nice salad. And the wine.
“It’s probably best to keep your time-jumper status under wraps, at least for now. Some will know; there are many empaths among us. Others would be kind of freaked-out by it, and loose lips often sink ships. Of course the ship sure seems to be sinking all around us already. You can’t imagine how heartened I am by your mere existence.” She blushed at that one. “Well, not yours specifically, but humanity’s”.
I blushed back.
Mon Dieu. How long has it been since I’ve fallen in love so quickly? The ways of love in this culture are something I’m going to have to learn, clearly I have to forget about the myths of the Trumpsters. I’m glad, really, they were quite distasteful to a hopeless romantic like myself.
More tomorrow; I’m off to learn about the transition in food production from Gracie. She’s going to tell me the old story of what she calls industrial agriculture and the new ideas about permaculture that are being explored. Afterwards we’ll go to the free store to leave a few items and pick up a change of clothes for me. I think I’m going to like this new life.